


A Scarf, Held By Hairties

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Apocalypse, Complicated Relationships, Gen, Hope, M/M, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24795190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kindness sometimes means moving on.
Relationships: Past Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims
Kudos: 11





	A Scarf, Held By Hairties

Martin wasn’t precisely pleased with Jon. Sure, things had become rather sidetracked for a while, but this wasn’t a world where they could dwell on distractions. The thing with life is that it keeps happening, no matter what, unstoppable and inevitable. There is never a perfect time for anything, there is never a perfect moment or a pure time, the knowledge to know what surrounds you is the theft of focus.

So, when the sky filled with eyes, when Martin snatched up a false statement just in the midpoint, they ended up with half an apocalypse. The world half overtaken, the sky half filled with eyes. And the thing about humans, the amazing glorious things, is they cannot live scared forever. Fear becomes normal, and normal isn’t scary. So the eyes overtook the sky, space started to warp, and all sorts of beasts came about. People had their friends become Strangers, and not always through the stranger itself. Who you are when the world pushes isn’t who you are when it’s at peace. Every moment is changing, every moment is new, and you are made anew in every thought you take in you, and every realization you remember to have.

So, Martin, he stayed. Not with Jon-oh no, he’s done quite enough of that. But in the cabin, and then, just generally around. The world had changed and yet some things remained precisely the same.

Jon left. Off to wander, meet up with whoever, Martin didn’t feel the need to hold such thoughts. 

He was lonely, but the world was more adapted to such now. When he went to stores, he watched the lonely shift eyes off, and then they’d shift back on again. Not from the eye, but from human adaptation. They saw him, they knew he was lonely, and they took the specific time to make sure to see him.

It wasn’t a deep connection; it was offhanded kindness. Human.

Martin, well, it got him thinking.

Because maybe things had already been bad. Wasn’t it such an assumption, to say they had been good before? With statements always coming in, this and that person and experienced this and that thing, and maybe it was the worst thing in their life. Maybe normal is not seeing what hurts you, and instead feeling the ripples on the surface, simply being glad it wasn’t you that vanished into the lake. Maybe the power to assume you are safe until proven otherwise, as much as it’s vital, is just that. An assumption.

So, if the world was always bad, and people always were kind when they thought to be, then the world could become good ‘again’. Maybe better for the awareness. Or maybe just the same again, just switched about on the whos and the whats and the wheres.

That’s why Martin was where he was now. Fog drifting around his hands as he gestured, but still he was watched. A group of children, taking shelter in what once was a police station, long since become a shelter for the residents. They watched him with eager eyes, which occasionally drifted, but always came back interested. He told stories- scary stories, but the kind that were a warning. Isn’t that all stories are, really? Sharing knowledge, ideas, thoughts? Taking the kindness and the time to share what’s learned, as it has been for as long as humans have been?

So the kids learned how to protect themselves, they learned the dangers of not seeing, of not protecting each other. They learned that the biggest power against fear was love, and the second biggest was fighting it so hard you know you can protect what you care for. They learned to stay in crowds, to pull people back to the safety when necessary, but never look beyond what was comfortable. They learned they were meat, just meat, but maybe that didn’t matter. Everything was meat, after all, and yet the world was so beautiful and glorious. And maybe they were just a speck, tiny in the universe, nothing in the vastness, unimportant. But what they did matters, what they do matters, who they are and what they protect stays as long as they want it to.

Somewhere, a click of a tape recorder. There’s less and less to record, that feeds Jon. He’s desperate, just a bit, just a lot, just a bit of a tickle at his seams.

Somewhere, a girl on a shore. She’s tossing turtles back to the sea, one by one. Picking up trash, one by one. Pulling other kids, flailing in the water, out from the sandy dirt. One person can’t change the world, but one person can save another, and they can save another, until it’s something. It’s a change, it’s a movement. 

It’s love.

And Martin smiles, accepts a drawing from a child, hands it to a homeless man later.

And Jon sits.

He’s alone, a tape recorder in his hand. The sound of the waves filters in, nothing more.

Footsteps. The proximity makes the air hum, the crackle of static.

A shuffling sound, rocks moving and falling somewhere below. They plop, faintly splashing.

“Statement of Martin Blackwood-“

“You don’t have to do this.”

Jon’s voice is resolute.

A pause.

“I know.”

Jon makes a bitter, dismissive sound. Static crackles it.

“Jon.” Martin says. There’s a faint fabric sound.

A fly buzzes somewhere nearby.

“Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding…?”

Martin sighs. The waves swallow the sound.

“The death of Jonathan Sims.”

“The death of Jonathan Sims. Statement taken direct from subject…”

**Author's Note:**

> [Skates in late, takes off sunglasses, and claps my bangle bracelets together] Rhidee is once again scrolling the fuck in on a fandom xey will never see canon for.  
> Listen, the world is going through a lot right now, and this fic was inspired by the following  
> *The fact i'm genderpunk and have the resulting radical kindness ideology  
> *The fact we are in the combination pandemic revolution  
> *The fact martin is too often used as a self insert, or as a pushover, or as his whole character being dependent on what Jon is doing at any given time.
> 
> So, i wrote this. Just a bit of vent of the fact humans can survive anything, but also this is scary and kindness is important. Jon does die. That's what's happening here. He feeds on fear most directly, and fear is decreasing. The only reason he hasn't gone mad with it is cause i put him on an abandoned shore and let him starve. Eventually, everyone will die. And that's okay. Death doesn't mean what we do now isn't worthwhile. We need to be kind, we need to help each other, and we need to punch nazi's in the face. Kindness doesn't mean tolerating evil. It means helping the victims, and stopping the continuation.
> 
> Anyway, thank ya'll for reading, shout out to my subscribers specifically who know to expect this tomfoolery from me. Please donate to your LOCAL advocacy groups, and check up on your quiet friends.
> 
> Ya'll be good out there, and remember you deserve to be loved.


End file.
